


The King and I

by LibraMoon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - The King and I, Developing Friendships, Falling In Love, M/M, More tags to be added, Work In Progress, setting is somewhat canon compliant, the AU absolutely no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraMoon/pseuds/LibraMoon
Summary: After fleeing his family and home, Dorian has spent years traveling and picking up any odd jobs he can. When the supreme ruler of Par Vollen offers him a position teaching his children, he can't say no.





	The King and I

**Author's Note:**

> I saw The King and I recently and well...  
> All of the Dragon Age bits are based as heavily in canon facts as possible, but I had to take a lot of liberty with the Qunari customs and social structure for it to fit the story line. I’ve also ignored the Qunari’s fear/hatred of mages because it would be too awkward in the context of Dorian being invited to their city.  
> Since Qunari names are titles, Iron Bull is referred to as "Ataashi" or "glorious one." He would only be called "The Iron Bull” as more of a nickname by close companions.

Dorian couldn’t deny the fact that he was nervous. He was about to step onto Par Vollen soil for the first time in his life. Few outside the Qun had ever done so. This wasn’t his first experience in Qunari-controlled lands; he had spent a year in Qundalon in the Anderfels not long ago, but he knew it would be nothing like entering a land so fully under the Qun.

He had been steeling himself, gripping tightly onto the railing of the ship for quite some time. He hummed gently under his breath, attempting to calm himself to the point where he could loosen his grip. Color began to return to his whitened knuckles.

His Tevinter captain turned back to glance at him. “We’re almost there son, last chance to turn back.” He laughed gruffly when Dorian didn’t respond. It was far too late for him to change his mind. No ‘vint with half a life behind him at home would do something so foolish as leave it behind for a job with the Qunari. However, Dorian had no such ties in his home country, or anywhere else for that matter. He had been taking odd jobs here and there and had ended up teaching more often than not. If his upbringing had given him anything worthwhile, it was a high-class education, and he might as well put it to good use. In the last ten years he had traveled all over Thedas. He had only recently finished a teaching job in Qunadalon when he received a letter from the Ataashi himself offering Dorian a post teaching his children. It was an incredible honor and Dorian had no excuse to decline. So here he was, in Par Vollen.

Dorian collected his bags and stepped off onto the dock. There were Qunari milling around, trading and chatting and going about their business at the waterside. He received plenty of odd looks and some brazenly stares, which wasn’t surprising. The children were more openly curious and some even dared to come close, pointing and laughing. The only qunlat word he could catch was  _ bas _ , often repeated. Outsider. It was true, and Dorian wished he could say it didn’t sting. As it was, it was more likely than not that the children were only making fun of his clothing. They all wore simple pants or robes, and many were shirtless. Dorian had tried to dress simply, but he felt almost tacky in comparison. He straightened his robes. The Qunari simply did not appreciate fashion.

Dorian was not so conceited as to believe the Ataashi would come down to the docks in person, but he was expecting some sort of convoy. He was just starting to become listless when he heard many footsteps approaching in military-like rhythm. An enormous Qunari in flowing robes appeared followed by ten or so smaller warriors. As he grew closer, his became even more obvious. He was almost twice as wide as he was tall, all muscle, and towered several heads over Dorian. And that wasn’t even including the horns, all eight of them.

“Hello,” he boomed, pointing to Dorian. “You are Master Pavus, correct?”

No one called him that, but Dorian wasn’t about to correct this hulking beast looked like he could kill him with a single one of his meaty fingers. He settled for simply, “Yes.”

“I am Arishok. Welcome. Glorious Ataashi sent me. You will come with me to the palace.” The Qunari was more versed in the Trade tongue than Dorian had expected, but his words were still thickly accented. Arishok absently waved a hand at the men behind him and they took up Dorians bags. “You will be staying in palace,” he added.

“Oh no, that was not the agreement. In his letter The Ataashi said I would have a house  _ next to  _ the palace.” Just because Par Vollen made him nervous did not mean he would never leave his room. He was still a young man with a life to live. The city had some sort of nightlife, surely.

“You will be staying in palace.” The Qunari repeated flatly. The soldiers were already heading off with Dorian’s bags, and Arishok turned to follow them. It seemed Dorian had little choice, but he would  _ absolutely  _ bring this up with the Ataashi later.

 

The capital of Qunandar was an engineering miracle. Anyone who called these people barbarians had clearly never laid eyes on the incredible architecture they created. Huge, domed buildings with windows dotting the surface like honeycomb; a complicated aqueduct system that ran throughout but was seamlessly integrated into the surrounding structures; vines and other climbing plants spilling over rooftops and lending color to the city. It was magnificent. Dorian reminded himself to ask for a better tour of the capital later, if possible. Arishok and his men marched brusquely down straight avenues directly toward the palace, leaving Dorian almost no time to take in his new surroundings. In less time than he had expected they were at the palace gates. He was whisked past more loud children and silent, staring adults straight into the main audience room.

The soldiers continued off with his luggage, but when Dorian moved to follow them Arishok instructed him to stay and wait for the Ataashi. He waited awkwardly by Arishok’s side. The audience room was mostly empty, with only the occasional servant darting through. The building itself was as magnificent as the rest of the city. Not much natural light made it into the center of the palace, but there were hundreds of torches that kept the room bright as the midday sun. The walls were decorated with glazed tiles depicting mostly Qunari soldiers, but also scenes of daily life. Gray figures marched and baked and fished and traded all across a bright, glittering blue background. It couldn’t have been more different than the dimly lit stone hallways Dorian grew up in. He was still trying to take it all in, dazzled by the sheer quantity of decoration, when several Qunari men entered escorting a slight Qunari woman. She was about the same height as Dorian with clipped horns and was decorated more finely than any Qunari that Dorian had ever seen, dripping with gold and gemstone jewelry. She allowed herself to be herded over to Arishok and kneeled docilely at his side. Arishok talked briefly to the Qunari men before all but one left. The last remained behind the woman. It was clear he was a guard, but whether for a princess or a prisoner it was impossible to tell. Dorian didn’t ask.

He only had to wait a few minutes more before the Ataashi finally entered. He was every bit as large as Arishok, though less muscled. His (frankly ridiculous) pants billowed as he walked, barefoot as most Qunari did indoors, the only noise he made the rattling of heavy jewelry. His horns were terrifying.

Arishok and the guard bowed deeply, and Dorian did his best to emulate them. The Qunari woman prostrated herself, face to the floor, and she remained so even after the others straightened.

Arisohok was the first to speak. “ _ Shanedan,  _ Ataashi. Teacher Pavus has arrived. This is Kasaanda, daughter-gift from Ataashi of Kont-Aar. He wishes for peace and prosperity between out lands.” He was still speaking in Trade, presumably for Dorian’s benefit.

The Ataashi barely glanced at Dorian, approaching Kassanda instead. “Beautiful. A worthy gift.” He stooped, raising her head with his hand. “Send Ataashi most sincere compliments.”

Dorian knew the Qunari used titles rather than birth names, but he wondered how it wasn’t horribly confusing to use the same name for all three of the primary Qunari rulers. Couldn’t they at least add last names?

Only after he had finished admiring Kassandra did the Ataashi turn to Dorian. “Welcome, teacher. Your bags have already been moved into clean room. You will be meeting my children, I have many.”

“Ah yes, about the room... I was promised a house _ outside _ of the palace.”

The Ataashi huffed. “I remember no such promise.”

“It was in the letter you sent.” Dorian was growing impatient. “You said twenty five gold a month and a house outside the palace.”

“Ataashi remembers all promises. I did not promise house. You live in palace like everyone else.” The Ataashi waved his hand dismissively and turned away. “I have many wives and children,” he continued, “you will only be teaching those in favor.”

Dorian was not giving up on the house, but there seemed to be no use arguing with the Ataashi at the moment. “How many will I be teaching?”

“Seven wives, sixteen children. Only one wife speaks Trade. She will help, you will teach others.”

If that was only the wives that were “in favor,” Dorian wondered how many he had in total. He supposed this new woman, Kasaanda, would be added to the collection as well. Many outside the Qun viewed the Qunari’s customs as strange and barbaric, but Dorian didn’t feel it was all that odd. What was the difference between multiple loveless, political marriages and a single loveless, political marriage? Whether they were breeding for powerful mages and the hope of a future Magister or the ideal heir to a throne, the Tevinters and Qunari weren’t as different as they’d like to believe.

There was the melodic sound of horns from outside the room. “Seven wives and their children are here to meet you, Teacher Pavus,” the Ataashi explained.

They entered in a whirl of music, clinking jewelry, and swirling robes. Dorian could only catch a few of the names. The head wife, Iss, entered with her children first. She was the one who knew the Trade tongue fairly well. Her son was Rasaan, the future Ataashi. From then on it was mostly young girls, titerring and laughing as discretely as they could, clearly trying to impress their father but too excited about their strange foreign visitor. Each bowed deeply before the Ataashi before seating themselves on the floor near Dorian. As the formal introductions ended, the younger children began to fidget even more, scooting closer and closer to Dorian. When their father did not seem displeased, most stood up and began clamoring around him, touching his robes and bombarding him with questions in broken Trade about his clothes and appearance and where he was from. Dorian couldn’t even began to start answering all the questions, but that didn’t stop them from asking more. Their eyes were bright and full of curiosity. For the first time since arriving in Par Vollen, Dorian began to relax. Perhaps he would have a enjoy his time teaching here after all.

 

\-----

Trying to get another audience with the Ataashi was like expecting Andraste herself to come down from the heavens and grace your living room. No matter how much fuss Dorian made about his housing situation, he was only allowed to see Arishok, who seemed to be the king’s main advisor as well as the head of the military. Dorian very much doubted the Qunari passed even one of his messages along to the Ataashi. He briefly considered just letting it go, but what mattered even more than the house was his pride, so Dorian kept pushing.

In the meantime, Dorian poured himself into his teaching. The Ataashi’s children were bright and curious about the world. Dorian was happy to oblige with not only lessons on the Trade language, but also any subjects the children were particularly interested in. Dorian was pleasantly surprised to find the Qunari knew almost as much scientific information as he did, so he mostly told tales of neighboring countries, historical Tevinter, and the Blights. The King’s head wife, Iss, also knew more of the Trade language than Dorian had expected. She helped him teach the lessons and translated between Qunlat and Trade whenever children were particularly confused.

Iss was also incredibly supportive outside of the lessons. Qunari were not typically known for their warmth and hospitality, but she was an exception. She showed Dorian through the palace on the first few days, and afterwards began inviting him for tea almost every afternoon. Dorian was allergic to the stripweed pigswill that passed for tea in Tevinter, but it turned out that the Qunari’s version was different and much more delightful. The afternoons he spent with Iss began with polite chitchat, but Dorian quickly realized she would openly answer almost any question he posed about the royal family or Par Vollen as a whole.

“Whatever happened to Kasaandra? I haven’t seen her once,” Dorian asked after about two weeks of these informal tea meetings. He had been horribly curious but it seemed like a delicate topic and he had been probing Iss to see how much she was comfortable with sharing rather than bringing it up sooner.

“She has mostly remained alone. She has not been… adjusting well.” Iss did not meet his eyes, but rather gazed out over the garden. There was an incredible collection of flowering plants and ponds visible from the breezy terrace they were sitting on. It was as lovely and well cared for as the rest of the palace.

Dorian took another sip of tea, an aromatic and delightfully spicy chai that he was praying he could get imported to wherever he went after Par Vollen, and sighed. “I understand you and I are from very different worlds, but the upper class in Tevinter breed for blood, and I’ve seen plenty of girls traded off into arranged marriages with older men. It never ends well.”

“She was a gift. She has not made peace with it. I fear she never will. There is a young man who came with her, from Kont-Aar…” Iss trailed off again. “He will have to go back eventually. I do not know what she will do.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for several moments. Iss did not volunteer any more information, and Dorian did not want to push her further. He felt for Kasaandra but it wasn’t as if the Ataashi was going to simply let her leave. Dorian had seen how responsive the Ataashi was about a simple request for a small house -- the Ataashi still had not granted him an audience -- and he doubted he could ever sway the Qunari on a topic as serious as this.

Iss abruptly set down her cup, the porcelain clattering against the table, and leaned closer to Dorian. “Will you tell me more about coffee? You said it is made from… beans?” she asked softly.

Dorian laughed. “I still can’t believe Par Vollen doesn’t have coffee! They’re called beans, but it’s actually the dried seeds of a fruit.”

Iss leaned closer, listening with almost frightening intensity. She was beautiful in a cold sort of way, with her hair alway pulled back tightly and the white vitaar lines on her face always painted with exacting precision. Her attention worried Dorian at first, unsure of whether she was flirting or threatening him, but in the end it was neither. She simply wanted to learn  _ everything _ and Dorian was happy to oblige.

 

\-----

It was only a few more days until Dorian spotted Kasaandra walking through one of the typically deserted palace hallways. He paused to watch her. She glanced back a couple times but she was far away and the lighting was dim; if she did see him, she gave no sign of it. Soon another, slightly larger figure joined her. A Qunari man, in simple clothes, unadorned with either jewels or vitaar. Dorian could only assume he was the man Iss had alluded to. The two lovers, as it was obvious they were, drew close together and farther away from the light. Only someone as close by as Dorian was might catch the sound of soft whispers and barely stifled laughter. Dorian knew he should leave, give the couple the privacy they so obviously desired, but yet he continued to watch from where he stood, overcome with a mixture of emotions not even he could begin to sort out. He was no stranger to the necessity of hiding a lover in the shadows.

“Master Pavus,” came a loud voice from just outside the hallway. It was Arishok.

Dorian winced at the title, as he always did, but replied, “Yes?”

“Ataashi will see you.” Arishok seemed gruffer than usual, and Dorian wondered if his constant questions about the promised house were wearing the Ataashi down or only pissing him off. Though he had grown used to constantly moving around, Dorian had grown quite fond of the Ataashi’s children and had no desire to lose his teaching post. But the Ataashi was finally granting him an audience and so he must go. On his way out of the hallway, Dorian did risk one quick glance back. The couple was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> The physical descriptions of the city and palace are based a bit on ancient Babylon since there isn’t a lot of information on what actual Qunari structures look like and... I might as well put some of my art major knowledge to good use...  
> This has been a WIP for a while but I'm posting it in hopes that it'll give me the motivation to finish lol


End file.
